Winchesters Away
by Isildur's Heiress
Summary: <html><head></head>Laying it all on the line, there was no "I love you," in the Winchester family after Mary. John was cold, defeated, but for the cleansing burn of revenge. The boys were all but set aside in his need to be bigger, better, so that one day he could exact his punishment on the thing that destroyed his reason for living. Weechesters fic. T for language</html>


Laying it all on the line, there was no "I love you," in the Winchester family after Mary. John was cold, defeated, but for the cleansing burn of revenge. The boys were all but set aside in his need to be bigger, better, so that one day he could exact his punishment on the thing that destroyed his reason for living. Once Azazel was out of the way he would make it up to Sam and Dean, he promised himself. There was a purpose, he thought, to putting them second. Only temporary, it wasn't intended to last. They would be okay, they would see one day that it was _necessary_, that he never meant to... To...

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><p>"Your boys are crying for ya, ya idjit. Sammy ain't no more'n a baby, and Dean looks more beat down than any child that age's got the right to be! <em>Ya gotta come back, <em>John, Those boys need you. They need you to be a father more than your dead wife needs you to kill Azazel!" The boys were 18 months and 5 the first time John left them with Bobby for a few days. "Now no one knows better'n me that losin' a girl like that hurts. Hurt's like hell, I geddit."

"No, Bobby, you don't-"

"Did you pull the damn _trigger_?" Bobby's eyes were lit with pain, with anger. Frustration and loss hit John like a freight train, and tears stung at the corner of his eyes.

"Bobby, I can't-. I have to-" John shook his head, unable to express his thoughts. This would be so much easier if Mary were here, he could _talk _ to her. If Mary were here he wouldn't be _having _this conversation, she would be smiling at him, holding Sammy in her arms.

"I know, boy,"

There was no Mary, there was no happiness. Dean and Sammy were just reminders, constant excruciating pain on top of the existing sundae of dull ache.

"Bobby, I just can't right now. Those boys-"

"Those boys are your _boys_, and they need you," Bobby held John in his gaze, "Would Mary be proud of the way you been acting?"

Rage clouded John's vision, "Don't you talk about her like you knew her! Don't you _dare_ even say her name! Mary would... Would.."

"Would what? Understand? Do you _really think_ that she would _accept_ this? Would she be _happy_ that her boys cry for a daddy that ain't even here?! That doesn't seem to care about them because he's too wrapped up in his _stupid _ to be there for 'em, and one of 'em barely outta the crib?!" Bobby had stood up from the table at some point, had taken a step closer to John, but he couldn't care less. "Now I may not have _known _Mary, but _no _mother, and no _father_, should ever be _content _ with her babies crying an _alone in the dark_."

Bobby hauled John up by the back of his shirt collar and shoved him out the door. Off the steps of the deck, and down into the dirt driveway. One good shove and John went sprawling.

"Get up. Now." John lay in the dirt, tired and lost, feeling unmoored. "Get _up_, boy! Get up!"

John sighed, heaving himself out of the dirt. He faced Bobby, hand in his pockets, eyes roving over a rock. Gritting his teeth, Bobby hauled back his fist and let one fly right across John's jaw. Again John saw the gravel driveway from the bottom. "Stand up. _I said get up, Winchester!_"

"NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Bobby had a split second to dodge John's wild fist, "_ You know nothing!" _John's fist punctuated the air right in front of Bobby again, and again, and again, "_You have _no idea _what I have to deal with! Those boys are my _life!"

Sidestepping another wild punch, "Shit life you're givin' 'em!" Bobby threw another fist, connection.

John got up, again, and Bobby let fly, another jaw connection. "Those boys in there deserve more than some drunk-ass deadbeat, and right now that's all you are!" Bobby held John up by his lapels, "A. Shitty. Drunk. Deadbeat. Asshole. I've lived with them kind, and it ain't no fun! Now sack up, and _take care of those kids!_"

Bobby left him in the driveway. Stewing in his own anger and resentment, John made a decision.

He stomped into the door and past the kitchen, ignoring Bobby's exasperated huff. He made it into the room Dean and Sam slept in, and stalled in the doorway.

Dean was curled up around Baby Sammy, breathing gently into his hair. A soft smile found it's way onto John's face, quickly replaced by determination. He packed the bags quietly before shaking Dean's shoulder.

Bright green eyes opened sleepily, "Mmmm?"

"C'mon kiddo, it's time to go,"

"Why Daddy?"

"It's time, Dean. Let's go. You can sleep on the road,"

"Okay." Dean rolled gently over, careful not to disturb his slumbering brother. John lifted Sammy gently to his shoulder, and hoisting his duffel onto the other.

Dean had already padded his way downstairs, and was hugging Bobby by the time John had made it down.

"You take care of your brother and daddy, now. Ya hear?"

"Yes Uncle Bobby," Dean's head rested sleepily on his bicep, and Bobby laid one hand in the boy's downy blond hair.

"Come on, Dean," John said sharply.

"Yes Daddy." Dean jumped down from Bobby's lap and followed his father out to the car dutifully. John vaguely registered the dirt on his Superman footies, but payed it no real mind.

Kids napping again, safely in the car, and bags stowed in the trunk, John gave one last cursory look at Singer Salvage, and Bobby leaning on the porch. He slammed the Impala door, and heard the smooth rumble of her engine. Foot on the gas pedal and the Winchester boys were gone.

Bobby wondered if he had let his temper get away from him.


End file.
